Writing about thinking about writing the next novel.

Luckily, there are thoughts inside my head.  Those that have been in there a while have put their feet up, and are either stroking their pipes or stoking the cats curled on their laps (or should that be…).  The recent thoughts have no such intentions.  I have plots whirling; twists of plots twirling; six characters swirling, one of which is dancing with swords, (oh, that will not end happily); beginnings bullying; conclusions in denial; chapters clamouring; scenes holding their breath to get all the attention. I have to release these thoughts; these children; these ingredients into the pot.

So I have dragged out the Cauldron of Doom (otherwise known as a Word doc named Notes), given it a clean with a moist cloth and lit a fire.  When the pot is hot enough, I shall add my thoughts, season the broth with terror and dread, then simmer for twenty days, stirring occasionally.

This is not the cauldron of Doom.  This is the Gundestrup Cauldron.  If I had a Cauldron of Doom it would look like this.
This is not the Cauldron of Doom.  This is the Gundestrup Cauldron.  If I had a Cauldron of Doom it would look like this.

While we wait, find out more about the Gundestrup Cauldron, by clicking on the next word recipe